


P is for Progression

by Lokei



Series: Stargate SG-1 Alphabet Soup Contributions [8]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Academia, Backstory, Episode Related, Episode: s03e21 Crystal Skull, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 11:46:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokei/pseuds/Lokei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's that time again!  Fig is hosting her awesome Alphabet Soup collection for Gen Fic Day, so here are my entry and (several) spares of the bundle of sneezes and snark that is Robert Rothman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	P is for Progression

**Paleontology**

Robert was a museum kid from about five years old on.  It wasn’t the dioramas, the models, or the eventual movies and flashy interactive that started creeping in as he got older—none of that was what brought him back weekend after weekend, after school and on rainy summer mornings.

Robert was in love with the bones.

He loved the silent threat of hanging jawbones and stony claws, the curving patterns of vertebrae and ribs, and the hypnotic emptiness of hollow eyesockets.  He loved walking in the park on the way home and imagining monsters sleeping under his feet, waiting for him to find them, destined one day for Rothman Hall in the new wing of the Museum of Natural History.  His fingers itched for a trowel and a brush, for the contrasting textures of ivory and marrow.

The world was a broken puzzle, and Robert was going to put it back together.

 

**Polyglot**

There were three things Robert most enjoyed about his grad program so far.  One was the fact that it was flexible enough to let just about anyone interested in digging up the past—animal, human, or geological—take classes together or not as it seemed relevant, with lots of opportunity to get ideas from other fields.  The second was the coffee shop nearest the library.  The third was likely to be the man in the office across from his, currently swearing at his computer in four—no, six—no, that was probably at least nine different languages, none of them English.  Robert only recognized three of those swears, but if the others were equally colorful, then this particular scholar was a lot more interesting than his floppy-haired, big-eyed exterior suggested.

Robert tried German first, which seemed like a safe guess given the pile of books on—he checked the office door name plate—probably Daniel Jackson’s desk.  Most archaeologists needed at least some German.  “Sometimes ‘shit’ is not enough expression for the university’s technology, agreed?”

Probably-Jackson turned and blinked at him and the corners of his mouth turned up as he answered in French.  “When it eats my syllabus half an hour before class, absolutely.”

Robert grinned and switched back to English.  “I think I can help with that.  Robert Rothman, by the way.”

The other man held out his hand.  “Daniel Jackson.  You wouldn’t happen to need a research assistant’s job this semester, would you?”

**People (really bad at them)**

Robert looked glumly down at his coffee, steaming gently as he sat alone.  There was a ripple in its glossy surface as someone dropped to the bench next to him.

“Hey, Robert.  Where’s Allison?”

“Good morning, Daniel.”  Robert rotated the cup in his hands and held it up for the other man’s inspection.  The red ink on the paper cup glared at them both.

_Congratulations.  You remembered!  I’m here on Monday.  What day is it where you are? –A_

Daniel winced.  “It’s Wednesday,” he pointed out awkwardly.  “So—getting better?”

Robert handed his cup to Daniel and cleaned his glasses.  “Last time I was off by a whole week.”

“At least you can say you’re more accurate than carbon dating?”

“Though for a carbon-based life form I’m awfully bad at dating, yes, I know.”

Daniel took a sip of Robert’s coffee before handing it back.  “I wasn’t going to say it.”  He stood up and grabbed Robert’s bag as well as his own.  “Now come on.  I’ve got this really fascinating pair of scrolls I just finished translating, and Sarah’s threatening to brain me if I read them to her again.”

Robert grinned.  He could call Allison to apologize later.

**Planet**

The first time Robert’s feet touch truly alien soil, it’s actually a moon, not a planet, but there’s a startlingly oppressive red gas giant hanging in the sky.  Robert’s knees hit the dirt without him willing it so.

He vaguely registers one of the soldier-types asking if he’s feeling sick with a regrettable “What’s up-chuck, Doc?” but he has no attention for them.  When he can drag his eyes from the sky they settle on the strange red glint off Daniel’s familiar glasses, his surprisingly short hair, and his face, utterly peaceful and comfortably amused, more at home here than Robert has ever seen him.  Robert wonders how long he will be the one feeling alien in this new reality his friend has dragged him into.  He breathes hard, his lungs drawing in vital oxygen along with the dusty, curiously tangy smells of this empty satellite.  He, whose greatest ambition was once to publish something solid and satisfying to offer one or two new insights into Earth’s past for the benefit of scholars yet to come, is now further from that quiet existence than he could imagine. 

“You all right there, Robert?”

He looks up at Daniel and manages a shaky smile.  “Out of this world.”

 

 **Paperweights (Can Still Be Deadly)**  

“Robert.”  Something jostled him and he grumbled and turned his shoulder away.  “Robert, wake up or I’m making you correct all the Arch207 essays.”

Robert’s eyes snapped open.  “You are *not!*” He blinked as the apparition in front of him laughed.

“That gets you *every time.* I haven’t taught that class in years.”

“Daniel?  Daniel!  You’re alive!”

“And you’re sleeping on my desk,” Daniel’s lips curved.  “Just for that I should take a week off and make you go through the ‘gate with Jack in my place.”

“Only if I get to throw the paperweight at him,” Robert grumbled, readjusting his glasses.  “What happened?”

“Something about the crystal focusing a specific intersection of radiation and alien intent.”  Daniel shrugged.  “I ended up shifted a few submolecular states away.  And now I’m back.”  He grinned.  “And still wondering why you’re in my office instead of yours.”

Robert shifted uncomfortably and cleaned his glasses again.  “You had the references I was looking for.  I got tired of walking back and forth all night.”

Daniel paused in the act of circling his office, touching everything as if he couldn’t believe he could.

“You worked through the night?  For me?”

“Of course I did.  If it wasn’t the paperweight, it had to be something else.  I was going to find it.”

Daniel’s smile was just about the most open and vulnerable expression Robert had seen on him in years.

“Thanks.”

Robert sniffed.  “Don’t expect me to make a habit of it.”

Daniel just smiled.  Robert hadn’t fooled him in a long time, and his old friend was surrounded by much better bullshitters these days anyway.

And when a ridiculous hot pink plastic ‘crystal’ skull keychain ended up on his desk a few days later, Robert clipped it to his laptop case with a grin.


End file.
